“If I stick my finger in that pen, is the llama going to bite it off?”
I hope so.
Because I have nothing better to do with my time, I told some friends who were bringing their llamas down to exhibit at the state fair that I would give them a hand during the three-day show. I don’t know what I was thinking. The state fair is one of very few llama shows where you see the general public, and I get quite tired of the crowds by the end of the show. Mostly because of the ridiculous questions like the one at the beginning of this post. More on that in a future
Llama shows are exhausting. Usually, by the end of the first day, everyone is slap happy and in desperate need of an adult beverage. We do things that we might normally never do. Like dance in the middle of the aisle while singing “My-y-y-y milkshake brings all the boys to the yard. That’s right! It’s better than yours…”
This time, my friends brought their giant RV to camp during the show, so they weren’t able to go anywhere because the RV is way too big/hard to maneuver through the streets surrounding the state fairgrounds. Problem was, though, the llamas had eaten all the hay we’d unloaded by the end of the second day, and we needed to get more hay from the RV to the stalls (a rather long haul). I had nothing more to offer than my car, but I didn’t want the mess of the hay inside. So we did the only thing we could.
The looks that we got from the “real” farmers as we pulled up to the barn were priceless. So were the looks we got as we were tooling down Binford Boulevard.